


Dream Catch Me

by Background_Foxe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bickering, Brotherly Arguments, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, past incest references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Background_Foxe/pseuds/Background_Foxe
Summary: Dean hasn’t slept in days and refuses to explain why, leading to a clash with Sam. It is up to Castiel to gently ease him through the night, and their intimacy leads to other possibilitiesBrotherly bickering/fighting at the start which leads to a gentler scene. Usual explicit sex fun and gamesQuote Prompt Meme request
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 120
Collections: Quote Prompt Memes





	Dream Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [flowerinaacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerinaacup/pseuds/flowerinaacup) in the [quoteonlyprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/quoteonlyprompts) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> "Did you think I wouldn't notice? You're an idiot."

Dean wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t admitting it either, which was a typical Dean thing to do in the face of undeniable evidence to the contrary. However, after the third time he’d pinballed off one of the chairs, Sam felt it reasonable to make at least some noise of concern.

“Dean, are you sure you don’t want to get some rest?”

Furious green eyes turned to him that showed the droopiness of severe tiredness. Sam eyed him carefully. Dean had been like this for a couple of days now, slowly getting worse, getting clumsier, yawning mid-sentence, and showing increasing irritability. Dean was now at the stage where the mere pop of a toaster could set off the next apocalypse and Sam wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or irritated. Both currently sounded good to him.

“I’m fine. Stop asking.” 

“I asked you once,” Sam replied mildly. “And that was when you decided to overlook a chair. You’re not a ghost, you can’t walk through things.”

“Fuck off.” Dean snarled back and pulled back a chair so he could settle into it. Sam was already counting down the seconds to when his brother would end up asleep across the table, but for the moment Dean was very similar to a large shaved wolverine whose last beer had been stolen, and poking him when he was in that sort of mood was unwise, if funny.

“Mm.” Sam made a soft noise at the back of his throat, but remained watchful. They hadn’t been out for a few weeks so it was unlikely Dean had picked up anything weird from some sort of case, and as far as he knew Dean had no additional internal strife he was working through that hadn’t been already present a month ago. His diet was normal for Dean - horrific - and even his alcohol consumption was slightly lower than before. And yet here he was, all tiredness and anger, waggling a finger in Sam’s direction that didn’t look like it had the energy to remain rigid.

“Seriously Sam, get off my case. I’m fine, shut up, and this ain’t up for debate. You understand?”

Sam’s expression suggested this was a poor evaluation of the current circumstance but he decided to keep quiet. Ordinarily he’d be happily up for a large and noisy argument, but here and now it seemed unwise. Equally, it wasn’t just them in the bunker. Castiel had been staying for a week during a period of ‘reflection’ - whatever the hell that meant - and was already creeping around carefully in the face of Dean’s Sleepy Wrath. Adding to the angel’s tension seemed a little unfair.

Dean was clearly spoiling for a fight, and seemed confused when said fight didn’t show. He finally gave another sulky glare in Sam’s direction and then pulled a book toward himself, flicking it open and pretending to read it. Sam wondered briefly how long it would take Dean to realise that it was upside down, before sighing internally. Not worth the stress. 

Pushing himself up from his chair, he made his way toward the kitchen area and the prospect of coffee. Stepping through the entrance confirmed the presence of Castiel, who was equally engaged in coffee related activities. Clear blue eyes turned to him with a worried expression.

“Sam.”

“Cas.” Sam nodded to him and retrieved the coffee pot, pouring himself a healthy shot and taking a mouthful. There was a pause and then a wince. “Shit, this is _strong_!”

“I believe Dean brewed it earlier.” The angel was apologetic. Sam growled softly.

“Of course he did.” he took another mouthful gingerly. If this was the fuel Dean had been feeding himself then he was amazed his brother wasn’t vibrating in his chair. He was aware of the angel watching him with the expression of someone who really wanted to say something but didn’t know the best way to start. Sam sighed.

“What’s up?” he paused. “Metaphorically speaking, I don’t need a list of birds or planets.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah, that was probably a stupid question.” Most questions led to Dean when it came to Cas, which made it all the more ridiculous that the pair were still maintaining they were ‘close friends with a strong bond’. Glue companies would be impressed by the strength of that bond. Sam glanced at him. “His current mood?”

“Correct.” Castiel looked a little guilty, as though he was talking out of turns behind his friend’s back. “I am concerned about his behaviour. He seems ..,”

“... more of a jackass than normal?” Sam suggested. Cas looked faintly disapproving.

“Out of character,” he amended.

“No, he’s pretty good at being an asshole, it’s just not normally this concentrated.” Sam shook his head and sipped the ridiculously strong coffee again. “I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Has he said why?”

“Cas, he hasn’t even admitted there’s a problem. But he’s so tired. I left him in the library, pretty sure he’s going to be sprawled out on the desk asleep by the time I get back. For whatever reason, I think he doesn’t want to go to sleep rather than something stopping him.” Sam pulled a face and swilled the coffee around in the mug. “I assume you can’t see anything? Can’t go in his dreams and .. I don’t know, help him out?”

The angel digested that. “You believe he is suffering from nightmares?”

Sam shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. He never admits it, but I’ve seen it from sleeping in the same room for years. But it’s never been like this, even after some of the worst things.”

Another thoughtful look across the angel’s face before he gave a little shake of the head. “It would be hard to enter into the more aggressive dreams, especially if the subject isn’t either expecting it or welcome to the intrusion. In my experience, it just makes them worse and associates whoever it is with whatever trauma they are seeing. And it would help if we knew what we were up against.”

Sam had to agree with that. He swallowed the rest of the coffee and put the cup down determinedly on the counter.

“Then let’s go find out.”

Another dubious expression. “Is this wise?” 

The voice clearly stated the owner felt the answer was ‘no’. Sam huffed a soft laugh and shrugged again.

“What other option do we have? He carries on like this, he’s going to break himself falling down stairs or walking in front of a car or something. Sometimes you just have to shake the answer out of him.”

“Dean’s never seemed to be the shaking sort.” Castiel said, still clearly reluctant. Sam smiled at him gently.

“It’s okay, Cas. It’ll be all my idea. You can just watch, no blame on you.”

He was half amused by Castiel’s reaction to the suggestion that he was worried that he’d put himself in Dean’s bad books, a startled expression before returning to an expression that couldn’t work out whether to be formal or adorable.

“That’s not my concern.”

But it was his concern, and it was sweet that the angel still worried about making a good impression with his .. what, soulmate? Potential lover? Whatever it was, Cas was as loyal as the best type of dog, and his current puppy dog eyes were merely testament to that fact. But to a certain point, that wasn’t really his problem. Sam shrugged again and began to head out, with the angel reluctantly following.

Oh yeah, they’d get to the bottom of this, even if he had to poke it out of him. 

And furthermore? Might be fun.

*

He’d been on earth some time now and Castiel felt he had learned significant aspects of the human condition thanks to the Winchesters. Many of said conditions seemed to be negative in some way, but apparently you could not appreciate the positives without a contrasting force. Needless to say, both Sam and Dean had seemed to take this viewpoint to extremes, and presumably were due a significant positive aspect any moment now.

This definitely did not seem to be that moment.

Castiel had been concerned for Dean since he arrived, and truth be told, some time before that. However, the older Winchester’s current condition was truly worrying. Dean was angry and unpredictable, but these were almost part of his general personality. No, what was truly concerning was the fear that lingered behind that anger, the look in Dean’s eye that spoke a little too clearly of an underlying issue. And Dean’s underlying issues could be .. intensive. 

And now he was faced with both brothers staring furiously at each other with such menace it was though they were intending to fight, and Castiel was not entirely certain they weren’t.

“We’re not leaving until you tell us what’s wrong,” Sam was saying, half statement, half demand. “And don’t try lying to us.”

Of course this had not been Sam’s opening gambit. The younger Winchester had started with a little more tact but it had rapidly vanished over a few grunts and a lot of scowling from a still dozy Dean. Dean hadn’t been fully asleep when they had arrived, battling his eyelids for dominance, but he certainly hadn’t been fully involved in the world, and an irritable Sam had gone down as well as the proverbial lead balloon.

Unsurprisingly, Dean was fully on board with a full argument. 

“I’m _fine_. Just leave me alone.” the words were delivered through gritted teeth, both hands curled into fists and tension outlined throughout his body. Castiel sighed. This was neither ‘fine’, nor how he would have wished this conversation to have gone.

Sam, on the other hand, clearly didn’t care.

“Really? How fucking dumb do you think I am?”

“Oh, pretty damned dumb, Sammy,” Dean snarled back, taking a little step closer. Castiel raised his head as he watched them, but was reluctant to intervene. To a certain extent this was not his place, and for another he was not entirely sure where the brothers would take this. They had been together for many years, it was reasonable to assume they would have found ways to mediate between themselves. Perhaps they might argue and then find a new path for a reconciliation. 

Or perhaps not.

“Says the man who’s desperately trying to keep conscious! I knew you were probably going to kill yourself at some point, but hadn’t appreciated how badly you’d do it!” Sam’s voice was impressively fearsome. “It’s pathetic, Dean!”

Castiel closed his eyes wearily. That was unlikely to end well. And sure enough-

“Get the _fuck_ out of my sight,” Dean took a step closer, all but vibrating in anger. “You want to go all moral high ground, Sam, you can take it to whatever church you’re sucking up to.”

Sam raised his head defiantly. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me why you’re not sleeping.”

“Who the fuck cares why I’m not sleeping!” Dean exploded, throwing up his hands. Sam looked triumphant.

“Ah! So you _do_ admit you’re not sleeping!”

If looks could kill, Dean was on his 3000th corpse. Eyes narrowed to almost slits as he glared back at his brother for a few moments before shaking his head in annoyance. Castiel could almost hear the teeth grinding.

“Fine. _Fine!_ Are you happy now? Does knowing that I’m not sleeping make you happy, Sam? Can you shut the fuck up yet?”

The answer to this question was invariably no.

“You got to stop shutting us out-,”

“I shut everyone out, it’s just me!” Dean snapped back. “And this ain’t either your problem or your business, so _back off_.”

Sam’s eyes flashed. “You’re my brother, of course it’s my business.”

“Bite me.” Although Castiel suspected that the older Winchester was definitely in the mood to be the one with the teeth based on Dean’s current expression. 

He sighed internally again. This wasn’t the first argument he’d witnessed, strangely intimate moments between the brothers where the pair demonstrated their close bond by identifying each other’s vulnerabilities and deftly stamping on them, but normally either food, time or a good walk resolved the issue enough that pleasantries could return. However, this particular argument appeared to have more muscle behind it, a stronger desire to revolt against Sam’s request, and that was disconcerting. 

Castiel focused his attention on Dean again. Whatever the sleeping issue was, it was clearly unnerving enough to fight about. That was never a good situation.

“Dean. Perhaps we can help.” he finally broke the silence. Enraged and clearly exhausted eyes turned to him, bloodshot and faintly frantic, and Dean all but bared his teeth at him.

“Oh no. Both of you, _stay out of it_. This is nothing! In fact, why the hell am I still trying to talk to you? Fuck this shit!” 

Dean began to storm off past his brother, only for Sam to perhaps unwisely take matters into his own hands by attempting to physically restrain him. However, the exhausted Dean wasn’t exhausted enough not to notice, practised and powered on extreme coffee; he caught hold of Sam’s hand that had shot out to bar his path, grabbing it by the wrist and twisting as Dean put his full strength into speedily pushing Sam back hard against a thankfully bare-ish wall behind him.

To quote the brothers, fuck.

“Dean!” Castiel warned in a strong voice, but the subject of his rebuke wasn’t listening. Dean had pressed himself up against Sam forcefully, the wrist still captured and clearly painful based on the look on Sam’s face, with Dean’s mouth so very close to Sam’s ear. 

“Did you really think that was a good idea?” 

The words were almost unrecognisable, a totally different voice to the one that Dean normally used, and yet it was still _him_. And this was becoming ridiculous. Castiel’s jaw tightened, stepping forward as the brothers glared at each other from inches away in their own little territorial world of teeth and fury and pain.

“Dean. _Let him go._ ” 

“Stay out of this, Cas.” Dean growled softly, his eyes never moving from his brother. Sam growled back, and then hissed in pain as Dean twisted his wrist a little more. Castiel frowned harder. No. This was not happening.

“ _Dean._ ” The last warning voice, allowing his irritation to emerge, and Castiel was about to physically remove Dean from his brother when there was the faintest of changes over Dean’s posture - the strength slowly ebbing out as though a small puncture in an inflatable toy - and finally Dean released the wrist in his grasp and stepped back with a scowl. The older Winchester was breathless, a flush having risen to his cheeks, and Castiel narrowed his eyes again in uncertainty. That was not normal, in a world where not normal was generally .. well, normal. 

Dean turned to stare at him briefly, and again Castiel could see the lost little boy hidden in the previous irritation and fury. 

Castiel stepped forward again just in case the truce was a short lived affair, his gaze sliding to Sam briefly. “Sam, are you okay?”

Sam had recovered his own breath but he was clutching hold of his wrist with the other hand, a look of outrage still very much present on his features. 

“Fuck this. I’m done trying to help him.” he turned and vanished out toward the corridor, his injured hand still tenderly held that suggested a bone might well have been broken. Castiel eyed him for a moment, then looked back at Dean who seemed just about ready to collapse. 

Eyes like a wounded animal stared back at him sullenly, but at least Dean’s teeth bearing seemed to have relaxed. Castiel hesitated for a moment, before stepping forward cautiously and holding out a hand. Dean watched said hand for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before looking back at him suspiciously.

“I mean it Cas,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want help.”

Cas frowned, head slightly tilted as he tried to understand this viewpoint. It made no sense. “Why?”

Apparently the answer was unknown to Dean as well, who merely scowled and shook his head stubbornly. This was not unusual, in Castiel’s experience. There were many things that Dean disliked in the world, and having to ask for other people’s help was high up on the list. Well, unless the help revolved around pies or other such stock. Dean had his priorities firmly mapped, and many of them oozed fruit filling.

“Perhaps we should get you to your bedroom,” the angel continued, and then frowned harder when the line of Dean’s mouth managed to find a new level of stubbornness to reach. “Despite the adverb, this was not a suggestion.”

“No.” Dean snarled.

“Dean, you are well aware that I can move you there myself without any trouble at all. I am giving you an option to do this with some decorum.” Castiel’s voice was still firm, but there was an underlying quiet sympathy. “I do not wish to force you, but neither do I want you to collapse on the library rugs.”

Dean continued to stare at him, his vision slightly out of focus every so often. Castiel sighed softly, and added a little more force, the hint of what Sam called the ‘father figure’ voice.

“Dean. You _will_ go to your room.” 

Another few moments of silence from the elder Winchester, but Castiel was gladdened to see the wavering between the lines. Finally there was a soft growl and Dean gave a small, curt nod to indicate acceptance before turning to head out the doorway. Castiel followed behind him, a few steps away to avoid ‘being up his ass’ but equally close enough to catch him should gravity take him before he reached a bed.

Castiel had been dubious about his intentions but finally Dean was curled in - or at least on - bed, resting on his stomach and his head buried in a pillow. His eyes were still open, poised in a scowl, but for now Castiel was happy to call this a win. 

“I will be back in a moment,” Castiel addressed the sullen figure. “I need to check that Sam is okay before my return. Please do not attempt to leave, I will be .. unhappy.”

“I assume that’s not a suggestion either.”

“It is not.” Castiel confirmed. “If your ass does not stay on that bed, then I will be forced to - as you say - kick it. Are we clear?”

There was a soft muttered word that was almost certainly a curse, but it seemed an acknowledging type of curse and therefore Castiel was happy to let that go. He nodded, satisfied, and then stepped out to unearth the younger Winchester and his injury.

Sam was lurking in his own room when Castiel finally located him, a mix of fury, concern and pain in his eyes and still cradling his wrist gently. He looked up as the angel stepped through the door, and almost immediately exploded. Thankfully this was only the verbal type.

“He still being a dick?” he snapped. “Honestly, Cas, I don’t know what you see in him sometimes.”

That was an unusual place to start a conversation, but Castiel decided to ignore it as a potential creation from pain. He stepped forward and silently held out his hand for Sam’s injured wrist which, after a small short sulky hesitation, was finally given to him. Castiel frowned as he gently manipulated the joint. Definitely broken, and some damage to the tendons. Dean had been remarkably rough considering the small movement, but then Dean had received significant experience on how to gain the maximum amount of damage from each attack.

A few moments of healing later and the damage was resolved, Castiel opening his eyes again to focus on Sam’s face that had already gained significant relief. 

“Thanks,” he rubbed it again, most likely out of an automatic reaction, and then began to pace around the bedroom. Castiel watched him for a moment, frowning.

“Dean has returned to his bedroom and is currently lying on his bed. Do you have any suggestions on how to stop these nightmares based on your previous experience?” 

He was bemused by the wary look that was aimed at him after that question. It seemed that there was something in the past that Sam was keen not to mention, but this again seemed unusual. They had all witnessed a multitude of events, Sam’s apparent shyness seemed out of place. 

“Is there something wrong?” 

Sam growled softly and shook his head, taking the opportunity for his longer hair to cover his eyes. “No. It’s all fine.”

It was Castiel’s solemn opinion that the Winchesters used the word ‘fine’ very wrongly. He frowned again, a little harder. The day had been difficult enough as it was without additional unnecessary riddles being added to the equation. 

“Sam.” it was the warning voice he had used on Dean, and remarkably it seemed to have a similar effect on the younger Winchester as well. A little start, before Sam gave a small smile.

“I know you’re really old, but we’re not your kids.” he pointed out. Castiel was even more perplexed.

“Is that voice a claim for parentage?” 

Sam made a soft snort of amusement and shook his head. “Strictly speaking, no, but it’s the type of voice that says you’re in a whole load of trouble when dad gets home.”

“I see.” Castiel was lying, but he thought he might have a vague idea of what they were talking about. And it seemed easy enough. Stern voice equaled discipline from a father like figure. This was not necessarily a bad thing. “So you will tell me what concerns you have?”

“Ah..,” Sam released a soft sigh and ran his hand through his hair briefly. “He seemed to respond well to physical comfort when he was younger. You know, someone to curl up with. It’s why he likes sleeping on his stomach, as far as I can tell.”

Castiel reviewed that. “So if we were to sleep with him during the night then he might be able to get some sleep?”

“Potentially. _If_ he lets us.” Sam replied with feeling. “We were much younger when we did it before. There was another point when we tried it but that .. uh, ended up in a different way.”

Apparently Sam was intending to leave that sentence there without supplying additional information. Castiel raised his eyebrows. 

“And that way would be..?” he prompted. Sam gave him another awkward look, a small flush rising to his cheeks before he looked away.

“A little more physical.” he said carelessly.

“You fought?” Castiel tried to establish a baseline in his head. Sam huffed another laugh.

“Not exactly.”

And this was becoming frustrating. “Sam, could you please-,”

“We slept together. As in .. ,” Sam made a little gesture that was still unclear, and then sighed even heavier at Castiel’s expression. “As in romantically. Not quite intercourse but definitely not .. uh, well, you probably get the idea.”

“... you were engaged sexually?” Castiel repeated, uncertainly. “As brothers, is that not-,”

“Frowned upon? Fuck, yeah.” Sam sighed. “But it seemed like a good idea at the time. And it definitely took his mind off everything. We fought afterward, if that makes any difference to you.”

This seemed an automatic situation with them, but Castiel was still coming to terms with the potential romantic relationship. He looked at Sam again, his confusion clear on his face.

“When-,”

“It’s okay, Cas.” Sam said softly. “Several years back. This isn’t going to affect the relationship that you have with Dean.”

There was another long pause as new information squeaked to be heard. Castiel blinked.

“My … relationship?”

“Yeah. Despite Dean’s opinion, I’m not that unobservant. I know you love him, and he loves you. No judgement on my side, honest. I think you guys work together well, and you make him all relaxed.” Sam seemed to be happily encased within an alternative reality timeline, and Castiel was struggling to bring it back again to his own understanding.

“But we do not… I mean, we haven’t-,”

“I know. And you really should. God knows when the next piece of chaos and bloodshed will turn up, you got to do things when you’ve got the opportunity.” Sam said, matter of factly. “I mean, come on. Theft, murder, genocide, we’ve all done full on evil stuff at least once. In comparison, why should actual love be an issue? If there is ever such a thing as judgement day, are they really gonna focus on that bit?”

Castiel fell silent. This was a situation he had not anticipated, and there was an automatic response in him to deny the legitimacy of Sam’s suggestion. Then again, there was another response in him too, one that was not displeased by the notion. 

“You…,” Castiel paused to gather his thoughts again into a meaningful dialogue. “You have already mentioned your view to Dean?”

“I did.” Sam hesitated. “Okay, it might have been a little blunt, and there was drink involved, but it was discussed at a high level.”

Castiel looked at him quizzically. Sam looked faintly sheepish.

“The wording might have been something like ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You’re an idiot’, but still, the conversation was had.”

“And Dean’s response to your words?”

“It’s Dean. He snapped some one liner, threw something and then stalked off to spend the rest of the evening in a drinking dive up the road.” Sam shrugged. “You know. Standard Winchester fare.”

“Oh.” Castiel fell silent again, still thinking hard. Was this a strange blessing? But then Dean had not spoken of it since. Perhaps he merely thought of it as another odd Sam suggestion, or perhaps he had drunk enough that the words had been lost in an alcoholic haze. Perhaps this was not agreeable to him, which was certainly a possibility. Castiel’s duty was to protect him; there had always been stern warnings against those who loved their charges too greatly. The consequences were often dire. 

And yet, there still existed a little ball of hope that perhaps the notion might not be a reasonable one. And that.. Yes, that both delighted and terrified him in ways that he had never dreamed possible. Who knew the most terrifying moments could be contained in the gentlest of gestures.

“Neither of you have talked about it with each other, huh?” Sam said softly and sympathetically. 

“I…,” Castiel decided against the lie and simply sighed. “We have not. But Dean would have spoken up-,”

“Oh, no, take that thought out your head. Dean bottles everything up and doesn’t admit to anything, _especially_ emotional stuff. I don’t know, I guess he thinks it makes him weak and vulnerable, or perhaps he’s just generally shit at serious things outside of a one night stand. He’d take it to his grave if you let him.” Sam stared at him steadily. “ _Are_ you going to let him?”

“This is not my choice to make.”

“Two to tango, Cas. Force the issue, give him the choice. If you don’t, he’ll just talk himself into ignoring everything.” Sam said. “Trust me. He’s good at that.”

Castiel fell silent again. There was much to think about. Phrasing for one, and damaging a relationship that he held very precious to him. Was the end worth the risk? He didn’t know.

Sam watched him for a moment longer, then gently put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze that the angel assumed was a mark of solidarity rather than a strange form of massage. Castiel looked up, faintly startled.

“There’s also no need to do it immediately if you want to think about it. The world is not .. uh, the world is _unlikely_ to blow up in the next few days. And you could always introduce it while we get him sleeping again.” Sam added thoughtfully. “It would certainly give him something else to think about, and … well, give him something to cling on to. You know how family is for him. Need to belong, that loyalty. Sometimes I think he’s just a bit lost.”

“I see.” Castiel replied. “Yes. Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet, still got to actually speak to him.” Sam offered him a rueful smile. “You want me to come with?”

Castiel considered that. Sam was an excellent Dean interpreter. Unfortunately, Sam was also almost guaranteed to rile Dean up, and apparently this thought was a little too clear on his face as Sam huffed a soft laugh and shrugged.

“Yeah, I take your point. Let me know if you need anything. You know, food, drink, restraints..,” 

The angel’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Is that to keep him on the bed or a sexual reference?”

“Whichever you feel in the mood for,” Sam grinned at him, and sank down on his own bed. “Just give me a shout, okay? Or a text, not actually screaming.”

“Will do. Thank you, Sam.” 

A tired smile aimed back at him. “Good luck.”

Yes. That was probably needed.

*

Remarkably, Dean was still on the bed by the time Castiel got back to the room, although sadly he was equally still awake. The angel stood in the doorway and studied him carefully. The man looked as though he had gone several rounds in a vicious fight, his hair ruffled and out of sorts, his posture poor, and his expression weakened despite the standard scowl that seemed to be permanently etched to his features.

“How do you feel?” Castiel attempted to address the issue with a more upbeat and positive query, despite the fact that he was certain that the answer should be a crude version of ‘not very well.’ 

Tired, still furious eyes turned to him before there was a soft noise of either laughter or frustration.

“Have a guess.”

That seemed a fair answer, and more civil than Castiel had been expecting. He took a few steps closer and then stopped, uncertain of his welcome or indeed the most appropriate action to take next. He was aware of Dean’s eyes following his every move with the suspicious look of a cat eying up a nearby dog.

“I am here to see whether I can help you.” he said finally.

The eyes narrowed further. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what that signified, but as an answer it was certainly sub-par. 

“Dean. You will need to talk to me in order for me to do this,” he explained, just in case the tiredness had affected Dean’s logic processes. “Perhaps you could start by explaining what is happening? Are you having bad dreams?”

There was definitely a laugh about that.

“Bad dreams.” Dean mused, a small, tired smile. “Fuck sake, man, how many monsters have we fought? We’ve stared into the depths of heaven and hell and various other shit places, we’ve died, we’ve been taken over, we’ve been the universe’s punching bag. If I was going to have bad dreams then my subconscious has really dropped the ball here.”

Castiel thought about this. “So you’re _not_ having bad dreams?”

Dean laugh-growled again and then made a movement in the bed that Castiel believed was labelled ‘snuggle’. From the way Dean was now avoiding his gaze, a full denial was clearly not likely to emerge.

“Because if you were,” Castiel said calmly. “I might have some options.”

This appeared to gain some traction. Dean lifted his head slightly, watching him carefully as though Castiel’s suggestion involved some type of horrific physical maiming or perhaps locking him inside yet another cell. Castiel gave him what he hoped was a pleasant smile, although this appeared to have the opposite effect as Dean’s expression grew even more guarded. Perhaps he did not smile enough for this to be persuasive.

“What options?” Dean said roughly.

“Dream battles can be complicated things to fight.” Castiel had already settled on a much needed small white lie. Dean disliked being vulnerable. Suggesting that a condition was simply another battle to fight and win should, logically, then put him back into a steering position and perhaps settle him further.

“Go on.” The words were slow and cautious, a man trying to find the small print in a suspiciously reasonable contract.

“If you were willing, I would recommend that I stay here with you for the evening in close proximity. This will allow me to feed you strength and to assess the current condition.” his voice was matter of fact. 

Dean studied him silently. Castiel was uncertain whether he had made a terrible error, before Dean shifted his weight again and pulled a face that suggested he was attempting to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“What, just stay next to me on the bed?” he said. 

“That would be acceptable.”

“Mm.” Dean paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Couldn’t hurt. Although the bed ain’t the biggest in the world. Might be a bit close quarters.”

“This would not be a problem.” Castiel reassured him solemnly. And indeed it would not. In fact, very much far from it, but he doubted now was the time to discuss Sam’s suggestion. Still, the thought gave him more pleasure than he had anticipated, and he carefully shut the door behind him and moved toward the bed.

Removing his shoes, Castiel hesitated with anything else until Dean chuckled again, although this time it was a significantly more carefree noise.

“You really gonna keep wearing the trenchcoat? In bed? C’mon man, live a little. I can lend you a t-shirt, something a little more cozy.”

First Dean’s bed, now his clothing. The day was full of unexpected but welcome surprises. Castiel considered the offer before tilting his head slightly in acceptance. Ignoring the additional shiver of pleasure for the situation, a thinner fabric between skin might also benefit the aid of comfort on a practical ground.

Dean offered him the first full grin he’d seen that day.

“Great. Well, top drawer over there. Pick what you want. And I think there’s another pillow at the top of the wardrobe.” he indicated with a hand, then squirmed his weight to one side as Castiel obtained both shirt and pillow, placing the pillow down next to Dean’s before removing his own clothing. 

He was aware of Dean’s scrutiny as he did so, and was again uncertain whether this was a positive or negative situation. Bare chested, Castiel paused to look back at Dean in question.

“Is everything okay? I have not taken a favourite shirt?”

There was the faintest of flushes on Dean’s face before he pulled another face and waved it off.

“Ah, it’s all fine. Just thinking.”

“I see,” Castiel didn’t see at all, but it seemed foolish to pry any further for fear of untranslatable answers. “As long as you are happy.”

“All good, Cas.” Dean watched him as the shirt slipped on, and then even further as Cas sat on the bed and slowly moved into position. His added weight dipped the mattress enough that Dean all but rolled into him naturally, something that the elder Winchester seemed perfectly content about.

“So… how does this work?” Dean glanced up at him, and there was the faint trace of hope in the other man’s eyes that seemed to do strange things to Castiel’s insides. The angel forced himself to focus. Now was not the time to consider how close Dean’s thigh was to his own, nor the line of Dean’s body now he was lying on his side, a beautiful curve from shoulder down to waist and back on the firm muscle of his hip. 

Castiel swallowed, which seemed extremely necessary at that exact moment. 

“We will need to be close throughout the night for this to have its full effect. Skin to skin is preferable, but it should be adequate through the fabric we have.”

“So we should be doing this naked?” Dean replied. Castiel had a sudden flash of severe and unpleasant panic. That would be taking it far too fast.

“I did not say that.” he hesitated. “Well, I did, but I would not wish to force you to remove your clothes. I know that would make you uncomfortable.”

“Getting nude making me uncomfortable?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “S’like you don’t know me at all, Cas. Okay, okay, don’t give me that kicked puppy look, I was just joking with you. If you think it’ll make a difference, we could both remove our tops? Skin on skin, and we’d still have pants on to reassure your delicate sensibilities.”

The last two words were very different when drawled from Dean’s lips, especially from the fond smile he was offering that clearly stated that Dean was teasing rather than being rude. Castiel gave another nod, and carefully removed the shirt that he had only just carefully put on. Dean had shed his shirt in a matter of seconds, which was an impressive if questionable feat. 

After that it was a matter of curling up on the bed, finding the most comfortable way for Dean to press himself against Castiel without being either awkward to hold for too long or excessively suggestive. Not that Castiel’s form cared about how suggestive the pose was; the angel was uncomfortably aware of the ache and the hardness that had emerged, and hoped that Dean was too tired to notice.

That seemed to be a fair bet. Still lying on his side, Dean’s head was resting against Castiel’s shoulder and the line of his body was all but draped over the angel’s. Castiel was aware of the heat that Dean was generating, and the soft, gentle vibrations of a living, breathing, _sleeping_ man next to him. Within ten minutes Dean had shifted positions slightly to cuddle closer, a soft mumble in his throat and his arm gently resting itself across Castiel’s stomach. 

And there it was. Dean was asleep. 

Castiel felt a little proud buzz travel through him at this, and deliberately pressed a little more against him. Not that there was much room to spare; Dean had curled up so tight that Castiel doubted he could get closer unless he physically rested on top of him. This also would not have been an issue, although the chances that Dean would accidentally roll off were reasonable.

For now, he was satisfied with their closeness.

It was several hours before Dean began to twitch; Castiel frowned, and became even more concerned when the curled Dean began to make a soft whimpering noise at the back of his throat and pressed even harder into Castiel’s side. Shifting to his side, Castiel gently pulled him into a hug, a movement that confirmed the shiver that was wracking Dean’s body.

“Dean,” he said softly. “It is alright. You are safe.”

The words were meant but Castiel did have additional concerns. There had not been any additional triggers that he had seen, and the reason why Dean should have such night terrors was still unclear. But he could not sense any malevolent presence within him, and Dean was slowly but surely settling down at Castiel’s words. A gentle touch improved this even further, the palm of his hand stroking across Dean’s back as Castiel continued to murmur his reassurances into Dean’s ear.

And just as quickly as it had arrived, it vanished; Dean slowly began to settle again, the soft whimpering dying away as he entered into a much needed deeper sleep. Perhaps it was nothing more than Dean himself, the strains of the past finally gaining their revenge by inserting themselves in his dreams. Perhaps the bunker had reawakened the loss of his family. Regardless, whatever had occurred seemed to be countered by his presence, and for that Castiel was truly thankful.

Castiel sighed softly and gently pulled him closer, feeling Dean settle against his chest and all but purr in satisfaction. A natural position, indeed, although one that had an equal part between pleasure and guilt.

If only it could occur when there weren’t demons attacking him.

*

11am and Dean still hadn’t risen. He also hadn’t moved much from his initial spot, now even more entrenched with his arm wrapped around Castiel’s midsection and Castiel’s arm protectively around him. Dean’s head was propped slightly on Castiel’s chest, snuggled down and clearly so solidly asleep that Castiel doubted that a bomb explosion would wake him.

Certainly, Sam at the door hadn’t. The younger Winchester had left it until 10am to cautiously approach the room, slowly opening the door to check whether the silence was positive or whether the night had resulted in yet another violent encounter. Their eyes had met and Sam had given him both a triumphant grin and also a little thumbs up gesture, which Castiel took to be extremely positive, if a little uncomfortable. Sam had vanished before Castiel could explain that their bare chests had been the only nudity on show during the night, although he had a suspicion that any protests would be assumed to be false.

And, to a certain extent, Castiel wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t the right position to take. Certainly, the fabric encasing their lower halves had not been removed, but this fact had not stopped the fact that he had liked the closeness of Dean’s body very much indeed. His erection was already rock hard and significantly more uncomfortable than it normally was, and Castiel had worried about this fact for several hours until he had decided that this was almost certainly fruitless. Dean would respond as he would respond, and he had never been particularly prudist surrounding sexual activity. 

Castiel hoped that this would continue when it related to him. 

His own body’s betrayal was also becoming the lesser of his problems as Dean shifted position in his sleep again, making a small noise that was half yawn, half squeak, which was quite frankly adorable, and his arm lazily slid downward before resting once again as Dean fell back into a deeper sleep.

And this position posed quite the conundrum. Moving said arm had the distinct chance of waking him, and Dean’s well being relied on as many hours as he could obtain through sleep. On the other hand, said arm was gently pressing against the tip of Castiel’s already very excitable penis. If said arm were to be left, then calming himself down would be an impossibility and the chances that Dean would become aware of his angel’s situation significantly higher.

What to do.

Castiel studied the ceiling with intensity. Sadly, as a distraction, it was not sufficient. There were several small cracks and a slightly uneven colour, but these minor defects had no chance of allowing his mind to stray from the very real fact that Dean’s wrist was brushing against the head of his cock every time that Castiel breathed, and breathing was an event that was certainly on the To Do pile. 

The feelings and sensations within him were undeniably strong, and almost impossible to ignore. Castiel could feel the heat in his lower quarters as though someone had set his underwear on fire, which would be both inaccurate and problematic, and an increasing desire to move, to do _something_. It was a difficult time, made even more difficult as Dean shifted every so often with another little movement and the adorable squeaky noise that Castiel had never heard from him before.

Controlling his breathing only got him so far. He could feel the need burn through him, a warmth to his neck and cheeks, and an agony deep inside that surely should have been some type of design error. This was a dangerous situation, and furthermore-

“You know, you could relax a bit,” came a soft and tired, if amused, voice. 

Castiel did the complete opposite to that suggestion, but it was definitely out of his hands. Dean chuckled again fondly, and allowed his arm to slide downward enough that his hand rested lightly on Castiel’s hardened erection and almost resulted in a sincere exclamation which Castiel only just bit back.

“Cas. S’okay.”

It definitely wasn’t okay, or anywhere near okay. Castiel tried to stare at the ceiling again, but the options were severely limited. Finally he released his breath and tried to think of how he should approach such a conversation. Experience failed him.

“I hadn’t realised you were awake.” he said, a little gruffly. Dean squirmed again, burying himself closer to Castiel in what felt like a particularly intimate way. And this was a surprise. Perhaps the lack of sleep had affected him more than Castiel had imagined. 

“I woke up a couple of hours ago. That’s why my arm is where it is. Been dozing since that point.” there was the sound of Dean yawning sleepily.

The arm… was intentional? 

So much to process.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said slowly, and suddenly found a new reason to stiffen in multiple ways as Dean’s hand rose slightly to slowly stroke over his stomach. Dean rolled slightly on his side, able to finally look Cas in the eye, and the expression the angel could see was the determined, ‘so-fight-me’ one that normally showed up whenever Dean was about to do something extremely brave, foolish and lifespan limiting. 

“Ah, I’m pretty sure you do.” Dean scanned Castiel’s eyes, and for a moment Castiel could see a nervous hint behind the bravado, a flicker of concern that this might not end up with a happy ending. But Castiel was familiar with that view. On the other hand, this was not a time to misunderstand.

“And what do I understand, Dean?” his voice was low and soft. “What is it that you want?”

“I know you know about sex, Cas. Don’t do this to me.” 

They looked at each other a moment longer, before Dean shifted his weight and slowly leaned across to press a kiss to Castiel’s mouth gently. Green eyes opened again to fix him with a still sleepy but significantly more friendly look, a small lopsided, slightly sheepish smile on Dean’s face.

“Well?” he murmured. 

And was there ever doubt to the answer?

Castiel found his hand moving as though by its own accord, disengaging from their sleeping arrangements in order to gently cup Dean’s jaw. Dean waited patiently, a loyal dog with no doubt that its master meant the best for it, and it was simplicity itself to steal another light kiss gently, and then again as though the first might not count.

Their gaze met again, lingering, assessing. 

The grin on Dean’s face when Castiel tilted his head forward slightly was almost enough to send him over a perilously close edge. The kiss was back but it was harder, stronger, a hint of desperation and need, and Dean pushed himself up to straddle Castiel’s hips with barely a break as they did so. 

They were breathless and flushed by the time they broke for air again, Dean growling in the back of his throat and Castiel allowing him his moment. After all, this was Dean Winchester, a man who ordinarily had to take control; Sam had often complained how his brother always believed that his opinion was the deciding one, and it was not difficult to see that this complaint had a valid basis. 

Needless to say, this desperation for control was almost certainly one of the reasons why Dean was not sleeping. It certainly should not drift into sex as well. There had to be some point where the weight of the world did not press as hard onto Dean’s shoulders.

It was likely that his thoughts had managed to show on his features as Dean looked curiously at him and then sat up a little more, his cocky grin turning thoughtful.

“What?” he asked. “You look like you’re planning something.”

“That is always a risk,” Castiel agreed, his gaze deliberately running across Dean’s firm chest and stomach before resting on the waistband of the pants he wore. “Perhaps you should remove the remainder of your clothing and we’ll consider what plans might be afoot.”

Dean began to laugh when Castiel’s gaze lifted again to fix him with a stern look. The laugh stopped mid-chuckle, a look of surprise crossing Dean’s face for a moment before being replaced by something distinctly hungry.

“Not a suggestion?”

Castiel smiled grimly. “Not a suggestion.”

Dean huffed a soft laugh and pushed himself up, deftly stripping himself of remaining clothes as he stared back at Castiel in either curiosity or challenge or perhaps a bit of both. And the reveal was glorious, as Castiel had always believed it would be. Logically it shouldn’t have been, of course; the firm muscles, the golden skin, the sizeable erection, he had seen all of it before during his many years, not least during the stage of ancient greece and their penchant for naked, oiled wrestling, but the very essence of Dean turned good into a marvel. What that essence was he couldn’t say, whether the cocky if shy posture, or the argumentative but ultimately kind eyes, but it was there and Castiel could not have been happier. From the pleased smile on Dean’s face, this had been noted.

Dean was about to drop the clothes on the floor when Castiel’s eyebrow rose in silent question; there was another little pause before Dean delicately and deliberately folded them and placed them on a nearby chair. 

The smile lifted in the corner of Castiel’s mouth. For all his outbursts and arguments, he had a growing suspicion that Dean just wanted to be a good boy. This was certainly something he could offer him.

“Well done,” Castiel pushed himself up into a sitting position and held out his hand to encourage Dean back toward the bed. Dean moved back and knelt on the bed, prowling the short distance on hands and knees before leaning across and taking another kiss with the faint bemusement of one who wasn’t entirely sure the situation wasn’t false in some way. Castiel approved of the need for verification. 

“You’re still dressed,” Dean pointed out, a small murmur between them, and Castiel smiled fondly. 

“I’m aware.”

Dean pulled a small face. “Well, can we get you undressed instead? I show you mine and all that crap,”

There might be cursing but at least Dean was asking permission for things, something that Castiel hadn’t realised would even be possible. He smiled again and gently ran his hand down Dean’s cheek with the lightest of touches, feeling him shiver against his hand and Dean’s eyes turn to a confused, boyish look. And to think he had assumed he would be the uncertain one in this situation.

“At some point,” he agreed. “Stay still,”

His hand gently drifted from chest, across the firm stomach and then slowly, carefully to brush against Dean’s groin. Dean’s pleasure was easy to discern. A soft gasp greeted him as Castiel’s hand stroked lovingly across a large, hard erection, hard and eager and twitching in sensation from the touch. Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again and fixing Castiel with a look so unholy that even Lucifer would be impressed. 

“I really, _really_ need us to do bad things,” his voice was low, quiet and huskier than the average sled team. Castiel smiled fondly. 

“It is said that good things happen to those who wait,”

“Fuck that,” Dean replied with feeling.

Castiel looked at him politely, and was gladdened to see the flush rise on Dean’s cheeks again. Still, there was a determination in his eyes that firmly stated that ‘fuck that’ was his answer and he was sticking to it, and from the way his dick twitched as Castiel stroked him apparently his body was on a similar wavelength.

It was also a fair assessment. 

From that point on it was more chaotic than even Castiel had anticipated. Their mouths met again, shyly at first before delving into something hungrier, Dean falling on him like a ravenous, half starved wolf and Castiel not having either the heart or the inclination to dissuade him from his focus. His hands slid across Dean’s muscled back, nails instinctively raking down soft firm skin as their embrace continued with the soft noises of hungry beasts.

There weren’t many words, but equally there was little to say. Dean had always had an expressive face whenever he allowed himself to show his thoughts, and it was an act of simplicity to watch the desire and the nervousness and the fierceness and the tenderness cross his features. Their gaze never left each other when the time came for Castiel to shed his pants and position himself against the bed to allow Dean to straddle him, and the look of relief and nervousness and pleading contained in Dean’s eyes as he slowly lowered himself onto Castiel was beauty itself.

When he had finally settled, when Castiel had breached him fully and Dean was sat on his lap, the angel took a moment to allow them to ease into the situation. His younger lover was a picture, a mix of need and nerves and desire, Dean’s breathing shallow and quick and his eyes pleading silently. Castiel could feel every little tremble that worked its way through Dean’s body, hear every little whimper, and the tight, hot heat surrounded him fitted so perfectly it was as though designed. To a certain extent, he believed it was.

“Breathe,” he said softly, and Dean made a sulky face at him for even suggesting he might have forgotten the oxygen requirement. Still, his body slowly relaxed, a too quick breath gradually finding a slower alternative, and Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft groan-sigh.

“..happy?” it was a soft grumble.

The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitched upward, pleased. “Ecstatic.” 

Dean grinned and draped his arms around Castiel’s neck comfortably, his back arched prettily and his hips slowly beginning to move. The angel’s smile increased a little as Castiel gently placed his hands on Dean’s hips to still him. Eyes opened in sulky outrage.

“I did not say you could move yet though,” Castiel reminded him. The sulky tripled.

“Hey, who said you were boss in this?”

The angel looked at him politely. Dean flushed again and muttered something under his breath that Castiel pretended he couldn’t hear, before the angel gently captured Dean’s chin in his hand to draw his attention back onto himself.

“You wish to object?” Surely not, the tone of Castiel’s voice suggested. Dean pouted a little more, but neither agreement nor objection emerged, and he remained still. Castiel smiled in pleasure. He was a very good boy, and it was clear from the lifting of the sulkiness that Dean basked in this pride. 

“Well, can I move yet?” Dean shifted his hips, sending another flood of sensation through Castiel’s body from his younger lover’s impatience. “Please?”

The please was a surprise. There had been a point where Castiel hadn’t been entirely certain that the word had passed both Winchester boys by in their youth. Dean was also supporting his argument by use of the most appealing gaze in his possession, wide, pleading, and still an element of naughtiness deep within him that spoke to the very core of Castiel’s being. 

In answer, the angel slowly began to move, a small motion at first to withdraw slightly and then thrust in a little deeper. He could feel Dean’s tight body respond to him, gripping him tightly and causing Dean to arch his back a little and groan weakly in response. 

“Ngh,” Dean squirmed again, a strange little noise that suggested he wasn’t sure what he wanted but he wanted it _now_ , and Castiel smiled to himself. Breathless, Dean stared back at him with a hint of defiance, before relaxing again and gently leaning forward to rest his forehead against Castiel’s.

From that point on it was a mix of give and take. His steady rhythm merged with Dean’s as their mouths met, movement varying in strength and angle as his length plunged quicker into his lover’s willing body with Dean bucking against him in his own need to make things faster, harder. Dean’s hand had already strayed to his own dick and was stroking himself furiously in time, a look of concentration on his flushed face as he did so.

He could feel Dean getting closer to his release; the soft little grunts had taken an increasingly desperate hint to them, Dean’s hand working harder and his hips forcing themselves down on Castiel’s cock with enough force that if the angel had been in a more adept mind then he’d worry about bruising. But these elements were nothing when compared with the way that tense muscles gripped against his cock, the little trembles and twitches that destroyed his composure, and Castiel gripped hold of Dean’s jaw roughly to bring him into another hard, messy, demanding kiss just as Dean came.

It was as beautiful as he had imagined, and yet he had very little time to appreciate the display. The heat of Dean’s body clamped down around him, each little shudder simultaneously flooding his senses, and Castiel bit back a cry of his own as his willpower failed him and he came hard and deep within Dean’s heat.

For a short time there was nothing but the soft, breathless gasps between them as they struggled to regain both sanity and strength. Dean had collapsed a little more against Castiel after climaxing, his face nestled in the crook of the angel’s neck and his hand resting lightly against his chest, and Castiel had little idea whether the elder Winchester was fully awake after his exertions. Not that this mattered, of course. The soft, happy little noises were all he needed, Dean curling up as best he could given the circumstances. 

Finally there was silence. It carried on for some time, Castiel merely holding him close and feeling his lover’s heartbeat slow as Dean nuzzled up. 

“Dean?”

There was a little shift, and then a sleepy yawn. “Mn?”

“I am going to roll you onto the bed,” he warned softly. “My foot is going to sleep.”

“Mngph.” a slightly sulkier noise, but Dean rolled himself over and gave him a very sleepy, very pleased grin, that Castiel had heard Sam referred to as a ‘Cheshire Cat grin’. There was further nestling next to him, and another wide yawn.

“Are you okay?”

Another pleased, sleepy grin that Castiel was confident to translate as ‘yes’. He smiled and gently ruffled Dean’s messed up hair. He had been about to suggest some type of food when Dean surprised him with actual words.

“Are _you_ okay?”

Castiel blinked. “I do not understand. Why would I not be okay?”

Dean made a soft noise that represented a shrug without the effort of physical movement. “Well. Just in case this wasn’t really what you had planned.”

“It was certainly not my initial plan. However,” he added swiftly. “this does not mean that it wasn’t a good idea.” 

There was another soft noise that was harder to translate, but it seemed relatively positive. Dean lifted his head slightly to study him a little more before failing to hide another yawn and floomping back into the pillow. Castiel took the opportunity to gently brush some of the fallen locks away from Dean’s forehead. It was a movement that would achieve absolutely no purpose other than to make himself happy, but the angel felt that this might be acceptable under the circumstances. Certainly Dean seemed to be quite happy with the mildly intimate gesture, his eyes closing as though a cat being petted. 

“Will you stay for tonight?” Dean asked softly. “You know. Just in case the dreams come back again.”

Castiel smiled gently.

“I believe that would be appropriate.”

And, for one of the first times in his existence, he believed that this might well be the case. 

END


End file.
